


a dog's nose and a cat's feet

by Imkerin



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Extra Treat, FC Bayern München, Ficlet, Gen, International Fanworks Day 2016, Neko Atsume - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6011860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imkerin/pseuds/Imkerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philipp plays Neko Atsume. Thomas sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. (very small background Thomas/Xabi and Thomas/Holger)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a dog's nose and a cat's feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raumdeuter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raumdeuter/gifts).



Philipp can't remember when he first downloaded the game, which is probably for the best, because it means he doesn't have to think about how many minutes he's spent playing. _Too many_ is a given, and yet he can't really bring himself to regret it; there's something subtly relaxing about the quiet, repetitive music, the gameplay that doesn't require anything but checking in a few times a day and smiling, and his life has been a little short on relaxing moments lately.

So it's without guilt that he unlocks his phone as they're leaving the dressing rooms, only to discover that Tubbs has eaten all of the Deluxe Tuna Bitz that he'd put out just before the game. He must have come just as soon as Philipp put down his phone and pulled on his boots, because there's a barren yard, 59 silver fish and no other gifts at all. "Damn it," he says under his breath, and is just about to refill the bowl when Thomas appears at his elbow, silent as a cat himself, and says, "Ey, Fips, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Philipp says, locking his phone hastily and looking over. At first glance Thomas looks his usual self, his hair still a ridiculously damp mess, his gigantic lopsided post-victory grin tugging his mouth open, the easier to talk with. But under that there's a shade of real concern in his eyes, a trace of seriousness that's been lingering there ever since Holger went down yesterday and didn't get back up; a concern that Fips knows is not just _what about Juventus_ but also _what about my friend_.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Thomas says amiably, shoving his hands in his pockets and dawdling a little, giving Lewy a casual congratulatory shove with his shoulder as he heads past them on the way to the mixed zone. "Golf club cancel your membership? Florist didn't deliver Claudia's Valentines flowers? Lost a bet against us and now you're bankrupt? You can always sleep on my couch if you need to, you know."

"I was playing a game," Philipp says, ominously certain that he's going to regret this, yet unwilling to let Thomas talk himself into a worry for the sake of the team, whatever European chances they have left, and his own ears. Slightly reluctantly he pulls Thomas closer to the wall, so he isn't showing everyone else who comes up behind them, too, and opens the app up again. "You collect cats. I got one I didn't want."

Thomas raises his eyebrows but takes Philipp's phone, poking at the screen and more or less serendipitously opening the catbook, swiping through the photos, cackling to himself once or twice as Lady Meow Meow and Senor Don Gato float by. "Which one did you get?"

"The fat one," Philipp says, reaching over and flipping back to Tubbs, silently relieved he hadn't given in to the brief impulse, a few months ago, to rename it _Thomas_ in honor of its giant obnoxious mouth. "It eats all the food so no other cats come."

"Good thinking," Thomas says. His mouth twitches, eyes flicking up, over Philipp's shoulder, and he locks the phone, his smile sliding sideways as Guardiola strides past with a brief nod to them both. He hands it back to Philipp, draping his arm around his shoulder instead and tugging him along in the manager's wake. "So, what's it called?"

 

A few days later, at lunch, Philipp hears the distinctive tinkle of the snow day music out of nowhere. He's got his phone halfway out of his back pocket to shut it off and make a note to himself to check for Frosty later when, at the next table over, he hears Xabi apologize and Thomas laugh -- and the music stops. _Oh no,_ he thinks, and scrubs his hand over his face.


End file.
